Kitty Valentine Dates an Actor Page 14

  “You think so?”

  “I know it. Look at you. You carved a career for yourself in a very competitive genre.”

  My eyes widen.

  “Oh, don’t look so surprised.” She snickers. “I know things. I might or might not have done a bit of research when you started off on your meteoric rise.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You are thoroughly yourself, my dear. No one tells you what to do or how to live. Granted, there are times in which I wish you would listen to advice—”

  “There she is.”

  “But I wish I had a fraction of your self-assurance.”

  “Are you kidding?” That’s enough to get me to sit up. “You’re the most self-assured person I know. We’ve had this conversation before; I know we have. You’re brave, and you know who you are.”

  “Even so”—she picks at a scone, frowning—“there are times when a person asks herself whether she’s made the best decisions.”

  Darn it. I should’ve seen this coming. “Oh. Oh no, she didn’t.”

  “Kathryn, it’s—”

  “Do you mean to tell me Whitney—that withered, old biddy—had the unmitigated gall to question your life choices? I mean, has she looked in a mirror lately?”

  “Kathryn.”

  “She practically humped Jake Becker in the middle of your birthday party, and let’s not even get started on the spectacle she made of herself at the charity auction. She tried to buy one of the firefighters off the girl who’d won him.”

  “You know she behaves that way when she’s … breathing air,” Grandmother murmurs.

  I drop my voice to a whisper. “So, what did that crone say? That it’s not cool for you to be with Peter?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Now, even more pieces of an ugly puzzle are falling into place. “Where is he? Why hasn’t he at least stopped in to say hello? Everything was already waiting here when I arrived. What gives?”

  She folds her hands in her lap. “He believed it best to make himself scarce for a while. Only a short while, mind you. He stayed long enough to prepare our tea and leave food for me in the kitchen. A few days’ worth.”

  “Oh my God! We have to go get him!”

  “Kathryn, really.”

  “What actually happened? Because I know he wouldn’t up and walk out for no reason. He loves you.”

  “Be that as it may, Whitney had more than a few strong opinions when she paid a visit yesterday. It seems she was unaware of my relationship with Peter, and …”

  “You don’t need to tell me anything else. I’ve heard enough. Where is he?” I’m on my feet, getting my things together.

  “He said he would take a room at The St. Regis. It seems he’s saved most of what I’ve paid him over the years, so …”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Her eyes are roughly the size of dinner plates by now. “Oh, my dear—”

  “Up, woman. We’re going to get him and bring him home.” Why are there tears in my eyes? Why is my voice all thick and trembly? “He loves you, and you love him. He’s been a heck of a lot better to you than that stupid, vulgar Whitney could ever be.”

  There are tears in her eyes, too, and I can see she’s barely holding on. This whole time, I’ve been prattling on about myself while her heart’s been breaking.

  “He felt he was ruining my position. He has a great deal of pride, Kathryn. He wouldn’t stay here if he believed our relationship to be the cause of any pain for me.”

  “Is it?” I crouch in front of her, searching her face for any signs of the truth. “Is it the cause of pain for you? Or is he the first thing that’s made you really and truly happy in years? Is he the one who took care of you when you were sick—every time you’ve been sick? Is he the one who’s been by your side every day for thirty-four years? Is he the reason you look younger and happier and more at ease than I’ve ever seen you?”

  “You know he is,” she whispers before a tear rolls down her cheek.

  “And did you want him to go?”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “Heavens, no.”

  “We’re going. I’ll get a car.” I’m already on my phone, scrolling through the app. “Put your face on or whatever you have to do, but make it fast.”

  Within twenty minutes, we’re pulling up in front of the hotel. Funny how we were just here not that long ago for the bachelor auction. It seems like a lifetime ago, considering everything that’s happened since then—including Grandmother’s heart attack.

  Peter is on the fifth floor. I wouldn’t normally go up to the room with her, but I don’t trust her to go through with this unless I’m nudging her along.

  “I’m certain he’ll be humiliated,” she whispers in the elevator.

  “He’ll be too happy to see you to feel anything but relieved you came to get him,” I promise.

  I know how he feels about her. I’ve seen the way he smiles whenever they’re anywhere near each other.

  Damn that Whitney for getting in their way. She’s lucky I don’t have her phone number.

  “Are you sure this is the right course of action?”

  The elevator comes to a stop moments before the doors slide open.

  Which brings us face-to-face with none other than Peter, who’s holding a suitcase in one hand.

  “Peter.” I step aside to make room for him and try like heck not to burst into tears at the way he looks at my grandmother. “We came to bring you home.”

  “Did you?” He looks at her, still standing outside the elevator like he’s not sure he should get on.

  She nods and holds out one hand. “We did. You’ve been away long enough.”

  “I’ve been away for two hours.”

  “Which is already too long. Unless you were planning on going to a new hotel”—she eyes his suitcase —“it seems you were of the same opinion. Peter, I don’t care what Whitney thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks—except Kathryn perhaps. And she demanded you come home, where you belong. Who am I to argue that?”

  “So long as you truly want me to come back.”

  “I truly do. Please. You belong with me, at home.”

  He reaches out and takes her hand, and then he steps onto the elevator car with us. They stay that way the whole ride down to the lobby, holding hands and leaning against each other.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It’s Friday by the time Rafe has a free minute to spend with me. He spent another two days in LA, essentially quitting his bartending job after disappearing for three days with no warning, and he has been packing up his tiny apartment in the meantime.

  I offered to help, but he reminded me of the apartment’s lack of space. Then, he sent a picture to prove it. Honestly, there would barely be room for the two of us to pack at one time.

  No wonder we’ve only ever hung out at my place.

  Now, there’s nothing for him to do but say good-bye to his friends. They’re having a party for him at Jonah’s later.

  Which only makes me feel like garbage since I know what I’m about to say, and I hate to think of sending him off to a party after it.

  But it has to be done.

  The fact is, I can’t stop thinking back to what happened with Grandmother and Peter. That’s love, what they have. The sort of love that makes a person sacrifice for the other person even if that sacrifice makes them unhappy.

  I’ve never known that kind of love. And I can’t uproot my entire life on the bare chance it might exist between me and, let’s face it, a stranger.

  Rafe’s sure not feeling like a stranger when he shows up, throwing his arms around me and kissing me hard, passionately, as soon as there’s enough room for him to get through the door.

  And for a second or two, heaven help me, I want to give in. I want to lose myself in this happy moment. My man is back with me. He’s triumphant, and he’s on the cusp of something great.

  It doesn’t help that the slightest touch from him lights me up inside.

&nb
sp; “Hey, take it easy,” I manage between kisses.

  He kicks the door closed and tightens his grip around my waist before lifting me off my feet.

  Oh no. Of all the times for him to decide he wants to do it.

  And once again, the devil on my shoulder tells me to be cool and go with it. We’re both grown-ups, and hey, our entire relationship doesn’t have to be predicated on whether or not I go to LA. There’s such a thing as long-distance relationships too. There doesn’t need to be a break-up tonight.

  It’s just that I’m almost entirely positive he’ll take my saying no as a rejection, and he might wish he’d known before we took each other’s clothes off.

  As it turns out, I don’t need to explain anything once we reach the bedroom.

  “You haven’t packed anything.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  He goes from looking around the room to looking me in the eyes while he lowers me to my feet. “Why? Aren’t you coming to LA?”

  “I wish I could say I was, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Rafe.”

  “I don’t get it.” He backs away, running his hands through his hair. “I thought you were coming.”

  “I never said I would. In fact, I threw up. The conversation sort of ended there. And this is the first time we’ve talked about it since then. I needed time to think.”

  “Let me get this straight.” He smiles in disbelief. “You’re actually not coming with me. For real.”

  “Rafe. I mean … you never gave me a chance to tell you I would. What, did you expect me to drop everything in a single week? To pack up my apartment and say good-bye to every one I know?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course I did. You’re the first real, substantial person I’ve ever dated. I mean, you’re on a whole other level.” He folds his hands on top of his head, turning in a slow circle. “I was so sure you were the first right decision I’d made in my life. And what happened, like, right after we started dating? I got the audition. I figured that was a good omen. Like the universe saying, Yeah, you two belong together.”

  I wish I could melt into the floor and never come back. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were so sure I was coming. I wouldn’t have deliberately led you on. I didn’t know, was all.”

  He’s quiet for a long time, finally going to the living room windows and looking out. I give him his space, sitting at the kitchen island and watching for any sign that he’s ready to talk. Silent minutes pass, where all he does is breathe deeply. His back and shoulders move in time, and occasionally, his fists clench and loosen.

  “You’re right.”

  My head snaps up in surprise. Am I hearing things? “I am?”

  “Yeah. Everything was going so well, and I didn’t stop to think of you. Your life. It was selfish, assuming you could live anywhere because you work from home.”

  “I know you weren’t trying to be selfish. You were excited and got a little carried away. Nobody could blame you for that.”

  He turns his head enough to look back at me. “You’re too nice, you know that? You could’ve laughed me out of this apartment just now, but you didn’t.”

  “I can’t imagine anybody ever doing that, especially to you.” I get up and meet him in the middle of the room, where our arms slide around each other.

  He rests his chin on top of my head. “I missed a real opportunity with you.”

  “You have a much bigger opportunity waiting for you on the other side of the country. It’s everything you’ve been working for all this time. I’m so happy for you, Rafe. I really am.”

  “It won’t be as sweet now, I have to admit.”

  “Oh, don’t say that.” I pull my head back to look up at him, and it pains me to see the sadness in his eyes. I had no idea he was so invested in my coming out to be with him. “Please. You’ll have the entire world at your feet in no time. I’m sure of it. And pretty soon, you won’t even remember me—or if you do, you’ll know it was right for me to stay here. I wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “You say that now,” I offer with a smile. “But that’s the way it would be. You’ll meet so many new people; you’ll be part of this big, sparkly world. While I’m sure I’d look great on a red carpet, I know I wouldn’t fit in out there.”

  “I can’t say anything to change your mind?”

  “You have no idea how hard I’m fighting to do the right thing,” I confess with a soft, regretful laugh. “So, please, don’t try to convince me. I know this is right. I don’t have to like it.”

  “Okay.”

  Still, he takes my chin under one finger and tips my head back before planting one more gentle kiss against my mouth. It takes all the self-control I possess to keep from grabbing him and clinging to him like one giant suction cup.

  Not the sexiest image I’ve ever come up with and one that makes me consider whether I should really be writing romance for a living. But I’m not feeling sexy right now. I’m feeling sad and maybe a little bit desperate, wishing like anything there was a way for us to be together without holding the other back.

  “I’ll miss you.” He touches his forehead to mine. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  “You’ll always have a huge fan here. Remember that. And if you ever decide to come back, you know where to find me. Right here on the Upper West Side.”

  That gets him laughing at least. “I’ll look for your name at the top of the Times Best Sellers list.”

  “Very funny.” Though it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he found me there.

  “And by the way”—he stops and turns toward me once he reaches the hall—“I’ll see your name there again. I know I will. And I’ll be celebrating with you. And if those awful assholes in that writing group see your name, that would be pretty cool.”

  “After three of them tried to use my name to get in with my publisher, I’ll go over there personally and shove the paper in their faces.”

  “Do me a favor and record that, okay?” One more kiss against my forehead, one that lingers longer than it needs to, and he backs away. “Bye. Take care of yourself.”

  “You take care of yourself out there,” I whisper since I can’t manage anything louder with this massive lump in my throat.

  I almost hate to think of a good, pure soul like him going out to Hollywood. I hope it doesn’t change him because I like the man he is. I like him a whole lot.

  My first draft is waiting on the open laptop, only needing an ending now. I already know how it’s going to wrap up. I always have. It’s just a matter of getting the words out.

  That, and I couldn’t stand writing a happy ending before my talk with Rafe. I always knew how that was going to wrap up too.

  Now, it’s got to be done. I’ve got to finish this project and put it aside. If there’s anything positive about dating these random men and losing them one by one, it’s being able to pour everything into the work and gaining closure once I’m finished.

  “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  She stood there, looking like an angel in her white dress, though it didn’t matter what color she wore. Fiona would always be an angel in his eyes—never more so than now, when she was only a few feet from him.

  “I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted with a tiny smile. “I hope I haven’t lost the opportunity to be with you. I don’t know if this life is worth living without you in it. Honestly, I can’t remember how I lived before you walked into my acting class.”

  “I’m sure you did fine on your own.” What was he doing? Trying to talk her out of it?

  The thing was, he could deliver any monologue with ease. He could convey any emotion. He could even cry on cue.

  But he couldn’t come up with the words to tell Fiona what she needed to know. What he hadn’t been able to tell her back in New York, what had been in his heart every minute since he left her there.

  Her expression didn’t shift. “I did okay, but okay
isn’t enough. You make me shine. You help me thrive. You bring me joy. You’re who I want, and it doesn’t matter which coast we’re on. So long as I’m with you.”

  His heart swelled as he reached for her, drawing her into his arms. “God, I’ve missed you. And I adore you. Fiona, I love you so much. Don’t ever leave me again.”

  “To be fair, you left me.” She was smiling when she pulled back to look up at him. “You’ll never get rid of me again, just so you know.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  It’s totally cool to write through tears, right?

  Cool or not, that’s what I’m doing.

  I really hope Rafe is happy out there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I click Send, and my first draft is off to Maggie.

  The Valentine heart box of chocolates sitting next to me is empty. Why do they put them out so early? Figures. Another Valentine’s Day alone, and now, I have no more chocolate to drown my sorrows in.

  I’m starting to rethink my decision to send Rafe away. Even if long-distance, I could have had a boyfriend to share this day with. I know it’s the right decision, but do you know how hard it is to have a last name like Valentine and not actually have a Valentine?

  At least Hayley is on her way over. We’re going to have drinks and watch sappy romantic comedies.

  I hope she remembers to bring chocolate.

  I’m fixing drinks when she bursts through the door.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, bestie!”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I cheer back, hugging her and taking the bag she’s holding.

  I’m so glad to have her back to her old self. She’s obviously not working till all hours of the night now that her fling with Tom is over, and I get to talk to her more often. Of course, just when that happened, I had the inspiration to finish my latest book, but that’s what makes us best friends—we understand each other’s drive to be successful.

  “I brought all the good stuff. Chocolates, of course, and all the fixings for our love-potion martinis!”